


Go for a Ride

by CorruptedCanineCreations



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Haunted Object, Tentacles, and it's just a smutty oneshot, but if you like haunted motorcycles with monster-y tentacles then this is your story, dean is torn between his new almost favorite bike and baby, dean winchester and motorcycles, haunted objects, i just really wanted to have a haunted motorcycle, in every sense of the word, its a good haunting though, its hard to choose, motorcycle, riding it is very pleasant, this happens around season 8, unless yall demand a second chapter which i'll do if yall want, very nice, which to take on joyrides, you cant tell me he doesnt like other cars and bikes like cmon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 03:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13538946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorruptedCanineCreations/pseuds/CorruptedCanineCreations
Summary: Much of the summary is in the tags but a more concise summary: Dean decides to splurge a little, selling one of the dusty cars in the bunker's garage and replacing it with a seemingly perfect motorcycle. The seller seemed incredibly eager to get the bike off his hands but Dean assumes whatever's wrong with it, he can handle. After cleaning and fixing her up, he takes her for a joyride and figures out exactly why that seller wanted the more..supernatural bike off his hands.





	Go for a Ride

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first SPN fic but I'm pretty confident with it. Comments are extremely appreciated, otherwise, enjoy! 
> 
> P.s. this fic was inspired by trashbab on Tumblr who is amazing!

Splurging wasn't something Dean was incredibly accustomed to considering while growing up it was a 50/50 shot on whether or not food was going to be on the table (if they had a table). Yet, everything seemed to be both at a halt and speeding by, so much happening in such a short time frame. One would think he would be used to that by now but a hunter never gets time to get used to anything besides shooting first and asking questions later. Everything was tense, once more the fate of the world on their shoulders, he had no part to play for now, he was getting cabin fever inside the bunker- 

In short he needed a break. He needed a break and something to do.

So, he turned the garage, seeing the cars already parked in there with his baby. None stood out to him and baby had already been cleaned and tuned up. A heavy sigh left his chest and he began to think, an idea soon striking him, one that brought a wry smile to his lips. He had the chance to do something he wanted to do since he first caught a glimpse of the roaring engine and leather jackets. Dean was gonna get a motorcycle.

The internet once again provided a plethora of options but only after hours of scouring possible scams and too high prices, he found someone who seemed more than willing to take literally any offer, yet none seemed to be grabbing. It was odd since the pictures showed the classic Harley Forty Eight in almost prime condition, besides a little wear and tear. He immediately contacted the owner and set up a trade deal, one of the cars for the bike. Dean's small but prominent childhood dream was gonna come true on a whim trade.

  


* * *

  


Driving any car other than baby was a hassle in Dean's eyes, never liking the unfamiliar handle of other cars. It did briefly make him worried about buying a bike since he rarely rode them, if ever, though he reassured himself with the reasoning that motorcycles weren't cars and this new bike would be  _his._ Baby was the Winchesters' car, one that symbolized the family, the strength, the determination despite such wear and tear that they could still run proud and true, even if it needed to be built from the ground up over and over again.

Thinking about baby nearly caused Dean to miss the highway exit and he narrowly made it, causing a few angry honks behind him. He let out a quiet, disgruntled sound and turned up the radio. At least he could hook up this car to his phone and play good music without the tapes he so dearly loved which sat in baby's glove compartment.

Deep into the city then down further back roads and Dean was almost uneasy; an isolated place without weapons in the trunk and only a gun in his belt would make any hunter uneasy but Dean steeled himself and unplugged his phone, getting out of the car to head to the door, keys in hand. The house had a real southern vibe to it, very homely but also very old and worn down, kind of reminded him of Bobby. He held back the nostalgic smile and opened the screen door to knock on the chipped wooden door behind it.

Cicadas and birds filled the empty air and trees around the home, an occasional car driving down the pothole strewn road; the sounds nearly drowned out the, "Comin'!" That came from inside the house. A few minutes and several heavy footsteps later and Dean was met with an opening door, revealing the same man he spoke to on the only slightly sketchy car sale website. 

"Who're you? Whatcha want?" The man seemed on edge and Dean took up a more relaxed stance, not wanting to provoke anyone. 

"Dean Winchester. Here for the bike?" Immediately, the man's hostile demeanor melted from the plump face, grey goatee and 5'oclock shadow slightly hiding the lines of age on his face. "Dean! Oh great to see you, thanks for comin' so soon." The hospitality was rushed and his expression had changed on a dime. Sam was better at reading people but Dean knew his way around body language and he could read the man's loud and clear: anxious.

Dean's obvious instinct was to think the bike was either so out of commission that he couldn't pawn it off on anybody or that perhaps something supernatural was tied to it, but he tried to shove all thoughts of the latter from his mind-this was supposed to be a break. 

He followed the man out back, beer belly and slight gait in his left leg telling Dean all he needed to know about how well he could take him if a fight broke out. The backyard was patchy with dead grass and a very old fence overgrown with weeds but the big isolated garage of sorts built separately in the back was in pristine condition, it was an odd clash but simply put a highlight on the man's priorities. 

Once they entered and the lights were turned on, Dean saw the beautiful bike sitting, clean and shined and begging to be ridden. "'Ere she is! And how 'bout this, I'll throw in a free jacket, chaps and boots if it fits ya." 

"I won't turn down that offer." Dean watched him pull the set of leather out of an old chest, hell it even looked brand new. This was far too good to be true and Dean was starting to get skeptical. He put his own boots and jacket into the saddlebag on the bike then put on the new clothes which fit a bit tight but seemed to loosen up once he actually sat on the bike. 

"She seems to fit ya like a charm! Let's swap keys and you can ride her right on out of 'ere!" The man hurried, putting the keys right in front of Dean's face who snatched them without a second thought. He had already cleaned out the car he was trading and dropped the keys in the open hand. "Thank ya for yer business!" if nothing else lit a red flag, the fact that the man hurried inside and seemed to lock the doors and shut the blinds should have. 

Dean was perceptive but knew he could handle anything thrown at him; he survived the end of the world several times before, hell, purgatory and every other shitfest imaginable, he could manage this. He stuck the key in the ignition and turned it once, nothing. Twice, nothing. "Sonuvabitch.." He growled and gave the engine a pat, "C'mon girl, let me hear you light up.." He focused and with one more rough turn of the key, the engine roared loudly to life, making Dean grin wildly. 

"There we go! That's a good girl! Let's get you home." He revved the engine, the vibrations sending shivers up his spine. He knew Baby's engine and how beautifully she purred but it was nothing compared to the roaring growl of this engine which he so easily felt down to his bones and gut. He picked up the helmet he assumed went with the bike and dusted out the inside before sticking it on, knowing Sammy would chew him out for getting one in the first place, much less not wearing a helmet on his first ride.

* * *

Tearing down the highway in his brand new bike caused Dean to have an adrenaline rush better and stronger than his first confident fuck in high school. He was smiling wildly beneath his helmet and all cares and worries were tossed to the wind that whipped at his jacket and clothes. The entire ride he felt fire flowing through his veins, a new confidence that he had previously lost in his worries.

  


Sam was able to faintly hear the loud engine outside as it pulled into the garage. Concerned about the unfamiliar engine, he drew a gun and carefully made his way down into the bunker's garage where the sound abruptly stopped. He paused at the door, taking in a deep breath before shoving open the door just as Dean opened it. Dean immediately put his hands up slightly, careful not to drop the helmet under his arm. 

"Whoa calm down Sammy, just me, check out what I got!" Dean looked like a kid on Christmas and Sam sighed in annoyance, lowering the gun and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Dean, what the hell?" The aforementioned man stepped to the side and proudly swept his hand to gesture to the motorcycle sitting in the center of the garage, engine still hot from the fierce ride. 

Sam was silent for a while, brows furrowed as he stared at the new ride. "You..got a motorcycle? Are you kidding me?" Dean looked a little offended, stepping over to the bike, hanging the helmet on the handlebar. "Sam, we're stuck here doing jack shit. I'm getting cabin fever and we don't even touch half the cars in here! This'll be useful for quick rides."

Sam tucked his gun back into his pants, stepping in behind Dean and gesturing to baby, "What's wrong with the car we use? Dean you can't even fit a shotgun with a few salt rounds in that saddlebag, much less the stuff we need on a daily." Dean popped the trunk to the car, pulled out an angel blade and stuck it right into the saddlebag. "Problem solved. She's just for joyrides, relax Sam!" You can even take her out on a spin once I'm done fixing her up."

That was never gonna happen and Sam new it. The moment Dean touched an engine, it was his and no one was allowed to drive her unless the circumstances were dire or he was forced to relinquish driving because of certain circumstances. 

He began gathering tools with a pep in his step, turning on a radio, "Sweet home Alabama" beginning to blare through the radio speakers. "Go back to your nerd shit, Sam, I have a sweetheart to tune up~" Sam wanted to protest more but Dean did have a point, they were sitting ducks for now. As long as Dean was complacent and not out looking for trouble, Sam didn't really see the harm in him having a new toy to fiddle with. 

"Fine but damn it don't crash, ok? I need you on your feet and not broken when the fight comes to us." Dean waved him off, already singing the song at the top of his lungs while he checked each gear and piston on his new bike. 

With a roll of the eyes, Sam left Dean to work, going back to his own work and closing the garage door behind him. 

* * *

Two hours of rock n' roll classics and a lot of oil and grease smeared on Dean and the man was  _finally_ satisfied with his work. He rolled away from the bike on the creeper he sat on which was usually reserved for cars but did help with not making his knees or back sore. He gave the bike a loving pat, though it still felt weirdly warm, but that was chalked up to the warmth in the garage and the hot Kansas day.

He grabbed a rag from his big tool box and wiped everything off his face and arms, not bothering with the rest of him. "Look at you, sitting pretty. One more touch.." He began placing demon warding sigils as well as a few others along the bike hidden under certain parts. He was nearly satisfied with it but he looked at the tank with a scrutinizing gaze, trying to figure out what was missing. 

After a few minutes of staring, he went up close to the tank with his paint, very very carefully painting a circle with a big W in the center in it for 'Winchester', adding two angel wings on either side. Once he stepped back to admire his work, he found it much more appealing and began filling it in with white, doing the inside lines black to make it stand out nice and pretty. 

He nodded with satisfaction and began putting everything away, excited to ride the bike again which pulled at him, naturally making him gravitate towards it, brushing his fingertips along the cool metal and leather until he finally sat down on it again, helmet on and backing up out of the garage. 

* * *

The second time he started her up, she turned on instantly, roaring to life with a new spark and power, though Dean was unsure if he caused that. Regardless, she had some new kick to her engine and the moment he hit the gas, they were off down the road, the gravel kicking up behind them until they were on clear, smooth back roads, slightly bumpy due to not a lot of care. 

He took a breath of what breeze made it under the helmet and relaxed into the bike, feeling all the more comfortable with it now that he touched every single screw and bolt in the whole bike. 

As he drove down the road, he felt something on his thigh, like a bump on the seat, it was odd and he tried to rub his thigh on it more, trying to feel out what it was without taking his hands off the handle bars. It was such an odd feeling considering he now knew the bike up and down in every intimate way possible-well, perhaps not  _every_ way considering he now found a lump. 

His heart nearly goddamn stopped when the lump moved and he would have veered off the road if not for the handlebars stabilizing by themselves. Now he was getting freaked out, though he still had control of the bike and began to slow down despite protest from the bike. The lump vanished as he slowed to a stop and looked down at his lap, seeing absolutely nothing out of the ordinary, even when he took off his helmet. 

"Damn I must be losing it..thinking too much again, this is your break, Dean, relax." He shoved his helmet back on and kicked up the kickstand, firing up the engine and tearing down the road again, focusing on the road ahead of him instead of that damn lump pressing at his right thigh once again. He ignored it, determination and a sliver of curiosity keeping his mind from lingering on it too deeply but he was keenly aware of it.

His awareness spiked further when he felt the lump on his skin, not just through his clothes but genuinely on his skin. He didn't dare take his eyes off the road but he could feel it, the smooth warmth, almost like snake scales but even when it rubbed backwards, it was smooth like the little scales flipped depending on direction. This was something he was  _not_ familiar with but he almost didn't want to stop, wanting to see exactly what happened. He had his angel blade within arm's reach just in case but he kind of wanted to see where this went.

The odd appendage, could he call it appendage? He was calling it that for now, began creeping up his thigh, curling around it. For a while it just sat there, an extra grip holding him close to the bike. It was almost..desperate? Desperately wanting to keep Dean on the bike and Dean could feel the emotion seeping into him, connecting him and reaching his heart and it made him pity the poor thing so he didn't slow down or veer to the side of the road again, he just let things move along. 

There was almost a jump in speed from the bike, one that Dean didn't initiate but didn't try to stop while three more appendages began crawling along his legs through his clothes. More than he could count began sliding along his thighs and up his hips and thighs, making the man tense and shiver. He was subtly glad this bike seemed to have sentience since it controlled the handlebars when an extra violent shiver raked up his spine from one of the appendages sliding along the junction of his inner thigh and groin. 

His face was quickly heating up but he wasn't complaining, even if he should be more cautious about this. Something about the movements and the soft caressing of each appendage quelled any worry or stress, besides, it's not like he'd been with a partner in a while. He started to let the bike decide where to go, keenly aware that it kept hitting bumpy part of the roads and revving it's engine, causing a pleasant vibration between his legs that he carefully pushed his hips into with a small whine coming from the back of his throat. It was drowned out by the engine but there was no one around but him and the bike, he could be as loud as he cared to be.

As the drive continued, the appendages grew bolder, sliding up along his back and curling along the sweet curve of his ass and between them, making him jolt. "Whoa hey now, stick to the front will you? You're lucky I haven't pulled over and opened you back up again." As a hunter, that should have been his first instinct anyways. Oh but that threat just made her roar louder, suddenly slowing to cause Dean to slide forward and grind against the seat while the engine rumbled against him. He let out a shuttering groan and gripped the handlebars tighter. 

"Oh you'd like that hm? You must have loved having my hands in your engine, taking you apart and putting you right back together again." Dean was well aware of the fact he was dirty talking a  _motorcycle_ but the reward he got from it was well worth the slight absurdity of the scene. One of the tendrils wrapped around his half hard dick straining against his jeans and began to slowly but strongly stroke him to full hardness. 

A low groan fell from Dean's lips and although he could feel that tendril pressing at his ass again, he damn let it. The sensations were making him nearly melt, from the vibrations of the engine and bumpy road to so much of his thighs, stomach and chest being caressed, he barely noticed it until it started to press into him. 

Dean swallowed thickly, biting his lip and debating pulling over, unfamiliar with anything going inside  _him_ but then again, his motorcycle was borderline, about to, fuck him and that was so far out of left field, Dean firmly decided to just roll with the punches, letting the bike have it's way with him. This apparently gave it newfound confidence, sliding up his chest to tease and curl around the pink nubs there which made the man gasp and arch into the sensation. The movement pushed his hips back into the tendril which felt different, slicker and smoother, and pushed it further in him than he meant. He hissed in pain but that melted into pleasure, Dean having quite the pain tolerance. 

He didn't realize how good something like this would feel; the tapered, but still thick appendage invading him and curling inside him, bumping with each uneven piece of road or god forbid, a pothole that made him jump then slam back down onto the shaft inside of him. His jaw had fallen slack by now, nails digging deep into the handlebars as his chest heaved with pants from the pleasure that was building in his abdomen. Yet it just wasn't moving enough, like it was waiting for something. 

Dean whined, which was a rare sound but he was pushed to the desperate brink of it with the tip inside of him brushing over his prostate, creating a new sensation that he'd never felt before but wanted to have  _abused._ The languid strokes on his dick wasn't exactly helping him push over the edge either, only keeping him on the edge, right on the verge of tipping over into bliss but goddamn it- "Sonuvabitch let me cum!" He growled the words and was rewarded with faster pumps and even more bumps in the road, helping him ride the tendril inside of him, spreading him open wide.

Yet, he still wasn't quite there, he just needed that extra shove, which he didn't get until he was growing close to home and panicked for a few seconds, wondering if the Bike wouldn't get him off in time. Though it seemed to time it just right, actually starting to fuck him genuinely, tendril shoving up into him, pulling out then plunging right back in, the one around his dick going much faster and much harder. His back once again arched and he cried out, fogging the visor on his helmet with the cries of pleasure. 

They just hit gravel when he came, spilling the mess into his jeans and his whole body fucking shaking with the powerful orgasm, ridden out with the curled tip of the tendril rubbing and curling against that blissfully sweet spot inside of him. By the time the bike led Dean into the garage and parked, Dean had his forehead resting on the metal dip between the handlebars, chest heaving and back rising and falling in time with each breath as he tried to catch it. He soon realized it would be much easier to breathe without the helmet so he yanked it off and gasped, even though the hot summer air did nothing to cool his burning cheeks. 

The thrum of the idle engine still purred beneath him and he smirked down, albeit tiredly, shaking his head. "What the hell did I buy.." His tone was curious, tired and defeated. He didn't think he could bring himself to examine it too deeply so long as it didn't start hurting things. He turned off the bike which caused each little appendage to slither away, leaving him feeling empty and a little lonely almost. He swung his leg over to dismount and nearly crumpled to the floor, groaning at the soreness in his hips. 

Yet..he liked the soreness almost, familiar with the soreness of sex even if this was in a new place. He parked the bike and looked her over one more time, nodding his head once. 

"I think I'll keep you my own little secret but you'd better stay out of trouble." He shot it a glare, unsure if it even understood him or his threat. He then threw a bike cover over her then left the garage, casually greeting Sam and doing his best to hide the gait in his step.

Yeah, his little secret.


End file.
